Iconoclasm of the Golden Witch
by Shareon
Summary: The rules of the catbox seem to ensure that Rokkujima is a tragedy wherein everybody dies. The Witch of Miracles herself found no world in which Angie's family returned to her. It would take something greater than a miracle to create a happy ending.


Title: Iconoclasm of the Golden Witch

Author: Shareon

Summary: The rules of the catbox seem to ensure that Rokkujima is a tragedy wherein everybody dies. The Witch of Miracles herself found no world in which Angie's family returned to her. It would take something greater than a miracle to create a happy ending.

* * *

Iconoclasm of the Golden Witch:

Fakir sat at his worn writing desk within his small, idyllic cottage. The water outside his window glistened in the afternoon sunlight. It provided a welcome distraction whenever he needed a break, regardless of if it was due to a cramp in his writing hand or if it was due to his needing to think through a particularly tricky character interaction.

Ahiru was nowhere in sight. Frequently she would be floating around the river outside while Fakir worked. More often she would be wandering around the room, reading over his shoulder as he drafted his latest creation. She had free reign to go wherever she wanted and do whatever she liked. Fakir could have simply closed the door if he wanted to keep Ahiru out; there was almost no way she could have used something even as simple as a doorknob. However, he would never do that. After all they had been through, saving Mytho, redeeming Rue, defeating the monstrous raven, and destroying the even more terrifying creation of Drosselmeyer, the pair of them were closer than lovers.

Besides, Ahiru was a duck. How much privacy did a human need from a duck?

Fakir reined in his wandering mind and re-dipped his feather quill into the inkwell on the corner of his desk. The pages of precious prose wouldn't write themselves.

It was better that way. If he had his way, prose would never write itself again. Never again would a contraption like Drosselmeyer's terrible legacy be created. It had put him, Mytho, Ahiru, Rue, and all of Kinkan in mortal peril. Only through the extreme efforts of himself and the heroic sacrifice of Princess Tutu had the town managed to survive that horrible ordeal, not that Princess Tutu herself had shared in that same fortune.

He had no desire to experience such a thing ever again.

Fakir was mid-way through setting up the opening scene of his latest work when Ahiru charged into the room. She was quacking at him, for all the good it did. As much as he wanted to know what she was saying, he couldn't understand duck quacks. Something had gotten her excited, though, so he took to his feet to follow her.

The sword Fakir had used as a knight was hanging upon the wall near the front door of his cottage. It had become dusty over the months of neglect. Fakir let it continue to hang there, eschewing it in favor of his much more frequently used clipboard on the shelf next to it.

Back when he had been a full-time knight for Mytho, Fakir had never gone into danger unprepared. That most often meant bringing his sword, and sometimes his armor as well. Those days had past, but the habit remained. It didn't hurt to be prepared. Much like a monstrous raven, inspiration could strike anywhere at any time.

For that matter, if he did get into trouble, it would help to have a venue in which he could properly exercise his powers. He couldn't outright break reality, as demonstrated when he had failed to save his parents as a child. However, he knew the power of a narrative. He could twist circumstances and bend things to his will. It was his birthright as a descendant of Drosselmeyer.

Fakir stepped out into the sunlight and was met by the interloper who had intruded upon his and Ahiru's world.

"Are you Fakir? Prince Mytho sends his compliments and has asked me to deliver to you this package." The boy was fairly nondescript. He was likely one of the various pages or squires or other functionaries who filled the court of Mytho and Rue.

"Uhh... okay. What is it?" Fakir asked.

"I don't know. The Prince said you would know what to do with it," the boy said. He handed over a box which was barely large enough to be considered a proper armful. It was surprisingly heavy for its size.

"Fine, fine. I got it," Fakir said. He dismissed the boy, who left at a jog.

Fakir carried the box into his cottage and set it down just past the entrance.

"What do you think this is?" he asked.

Ahiru quacked in response. She then flew up to a higher perch from where she could look down upon the room and the box's contents. It was still sealed, but that was merely a temporary condition which was soon to be rectified.

Fakir returned his clipboard to its normal resting spot and instead picked up a knife. The blade made short work of the light cardboard and revealed the contents inside. On the surface was a large sheet of paper.

"Umineko no Naku Koro ni," it read. When the Seagulls Cry.

Beneath the coversheet was a manuscript. It was a fair size, and certainly large enough to be considered a full book. The front page bore the title, "Legend of the Golden Witch."

Fakir pulled back the manuscript, which revealed another one beneath it. "Turn of the Golden Witch."

Beneath that was another one. "Banquet of the Golden Witch."

"Weird names. I assume these are all sequels to each other, or something," Fakir mused out loud. Ahiru quacked in response.

He quickly flipped through the stacks and stacks of papers within the box. As he descended through the pile, the manuscripts grew thicker and thicker still. The eighth and last one on the bottom of the box, "Twilight of the Golden Witch," was over twice as long as the first one had been.

"That Mytho. Can't he be clear for once? What's he want me to do with all this?" Fakir asked. He said this to himself as much as he did to Ahiru. He found his face forming a bemused smile despite the content of his words.

Ahiru quacked in sympathy.

"I guess I should read them."

Fakir picked up the manuscript on the top of the stack, moved to a comfortable chair, and took a seat at an equally comfortable table. Ahiru flew over to sit in front of him, such that they could both read at the same time.

"Comfortable?"

Ahiru nodded back.

Fakir flipped over the title page to reveal the first page of prose.

"Legend of the Golden Witch" was a story of how several families came to, and were subsequently stranded on, the island of Rokkujima. There, they were slowly murdered one after another in a ritual magical sacrifice as described by an Epitaph. It was all orchestrated by the Golden Witch Beatrice, who hid in the shadows and killed the humans one after another using a plethora of nefarious magical spells. The story concluded with a closing letter by one of the characters, Maria Ushiromiya, asking the reader to solve the mystery of the island. It was a tragic story, and reminded Fakir of his own life of fighting both the monstrous raven as well as Drosselmeyer's legacy, albeit the story he read had a much less fortunate ending.

The whole narrative was rather plain and unremarkable. It was certainty nothing deserving of royal attention. Fakir was wondering why Mytho had sent it to him when he turned a page and saw the epilogue at the end of "Legend of the Golden Witch." That was when everything took a twist. The different characters within the story started talking about the world they had just experienced. One character in particular, Battler Ushiromiya, suggested that the whole story was a straight mystery in which no actual magic had been involved. This claim was made despite the presence of the Golden Witch Beatrice and the acts of magic she had obviously performed. The whole thing ended on a very inconclusive note, with Battler and Beatrice challenging each other to prove their respective theories.

Fakir let the pages slap closed, and he looked down at Ahiru.

"What was that?" he asked, exasperated.

Ahiru quacked. She flapped her wings in a passable semblance of a shrug.

"Did I miss something?"

Up until the epilogue, Fakir had been content to consider "Legend of the Golden Witch" as a simple supernatural horror story. There were numerous unanswered questions, unexplored plots, and unknown details which the author had omitted; it was not clear if this had been through conscious choice or through poor writing. However, that merely made the story somewhat superficial, rather than being worth special consideration. After reading through to the end, though, that all changed. The hint that there was a rational explanation for everything and the hint that the omissions had been intentional left the whole story feeling unresolved and deeply unsatisfying.

"I suppose this leads to the next one," Fakir said. "It's getting late. Let's get some dinner first."

Ahiru was only too happy to agree.

One meal later, Fakir and Ahiru resumed their previous positions to start the second manuscript in the large pile, "Turn of the Golden Witch."

There was a definite similarity between the second manuscript and the first one. The various families traveled to Rokkujima, were stranded there, and were slowly sacrificed one after the other as described by the same Epitaph. There were clear differences, too. There were multiple copies of certain characters, especially Battler and Beatrice, who confronted each other both within the primary world of the story as well as within some observing world outside of it. Beatrice had managed to escape the world of myth and had become an actual character on Rokkujima. The concept felt not unlike how a certain monstrous raven, heroic prince, and doomed knight had transcended the world of fable to confront each other within Kinkan.

However, "Turn of the Golden Witch" did little to answer the questions brought forward in "Legend of the Golden Witch." If anything, it exacerbated them while adding still more questions on top. There was nothing else to do but continue on to reading the third manuscript, and it was already long past sunset.

There were definite advantages to being an author over being a knight. As a knight, Fakir fought at the side of his prince against dastardly and deadly foes. There was a clear bond between them, and a clear sense of accomplishment. Unlike hordes of black ravens, though, a simple set of manuscripts had no deadline. He could take a break whenever he needed to, safe in the knowledge that if he turned his back he wouldn't be pierced with hundreds of razor-sharp feathers. The questions which nagged at him as he lay in bed were irritating, but nothing which could be considered life-threatening.

Fakir continued his reading of the manuscripts for two more days, poring through tale after tale of the Golden Witch Beatrice. He sympathized with the tragedy of Angie Ushiromiya as he prepared lunch over a hot stove. He mused on the mystery of Kinzo Ushiromiya while swimming with Ahiru in the river. He contemplated the solution to the Epitaph while lying in bed at night. He considered the fight in the Capital of Books and how he would have written it if he had been the author of that manuscript.

The conclusion to the series could hardly be considered neat by any stretch of the imagination. The interpretation of the stories as a magical horror felt superficial, and the interpretation of the story as a straight mystery felt incomplete. It was only with the intertwining of the two interpretations that the meta-story worked, which in turn provided an ending to the main story; everything was brought to a messy but satisfactory conclusion.

Still, something was missing. The entire story very much echoed the tale of Kinkan, and how Drosselmeyer had conflated fable and reality into a single comprehensive world. Magic and mystery intertwined in a tightly-knit way which was completely dissonant to each other, but that very dissonance was what let them combine to tell the true underlying story. And much like the town of Kinkan, the people on Rokkujima were trapped in a cycle of tragedy and destruction. They didn't even have the consolation of knowing that happiness would exist if they accepted their fate. As wryly commented upon within the story itself, all the Ushiromiya families were doomed to a perpetual existence of sorrow and death.

Yet, there was nothing in the rules themselves which mandated it. There was no reason why a handful of indigent families coming together for an annual reunion would necessarily need to come to a sad end.

And then Fakir knew why Mytho had sent these stories to him.

Much like Rue, much like Ahiru, and much like Fakir himself, Mytho was at his heart a terrible romantic. It didn't matter whether Angie and the people of Rokkujima were real people or if they were merely figments of somebody's imagination. He knew what being trapped in a world of imposed doom was like. It was only through the heroic sacrifice of Princess Tutu that he had been able to save them all from it. The Ushiromiya family deserved a better fate than the one they had received.

Fakir was still developing as a writer. He had spent years intentionally neglecting his talents, suppressed by the follies of youth and the death of his parents. He had only recently begun writing again, with his work focusing primarily on the heroic Ahiru in various situations. His compositions were still patently amateur, but even so he was the closest thing to a royal author there was, and his Prince had a commission.

A knight's job was to fight monsters, but an author had a very different task. It didn't matter that Bernkastel, the Witch of Miracles, had said that a world where Angie's family returned did not exist. It didn't matter that hordes of demonic goats had demanded a tragedy occur on the island of Rokkujima. Those were merely challenges to overcome, and ones which the descendant of the legendary Drosselmeyer was in a unique position to meet.

Fakir sat down at his writing desk, dipped his quill into his inkwell, and crafted his story.

It was a dramatic tale. A young hero, somebody who was aware of the dual nature of myth and reality, would join the various other characters within the world of Umineko no Naku Koro ni. He was joined by his duck companion; Ahiru had seen Fakir try to describe the duck as a pet and had protested strongly until he had changed it.

Fakir always tried to include a duck within all of his stories in tribute for everything Ahiru had done. Unfortunately, in this case, there wasn't much of a place for a duck besides acting as a literary device and occasionally acting as a proxy for the reader. However, maybe that was enough. It was better than leaving her out entirely.

In the course of the plot, much like Battler, Beatrice, Angie, and Erika, the hero engaged in examinations of logic and had arguments of reason with the other characters and especially with the different witches of Rokkujima. This was all done in accordance with the rules of Beatrice's game board. The various debts and financial needs of the different families were addressed, and the different love interests among the people were matched to everybody's satisfaction. The hero saved all the members of the Ushiromiya family, and ensured that Battler and Beatrice returned to Angie. In short, he created a happy ending.

It wasn't without effort, though. As a matter of course, throughout the plot, the hero faced and defeated various challenges. Demonic goats appeared to try to destroy the world, as was so common in the later manuscripts Fakir had read, so of course the hero was required to fight them off. Most importantly, though, the largest challenges which faced the hero were the various witches with whom he had to interact with and confront.

Bernkastel was the first, and she was also the easiest to write. Her character was also the easiest to understand. Bernkastel had been the main driver of conflict throughout the manuscripts, and her sadism would ensure she would want to bring about a tragedy. This made her an obvious enemy to the hero. In another universe she could have been a good person, but within the world of Umineko no Naku Koro ni, she was undoubtedly a villain to overcome. Any happy ending would require the hero face her.

This naturally led to the question of Lambdadelta. Wherever Bernkastel went, Lambdadelta would be sure to follow. However, her characterization was much more ambiguous than Bernkastel's was. Her role throughout the various stories of Umineko no Naku Koro ni had been very questionable, but one consistent theme had been her interest in having a happy ending. That would place her firmly in support of the hero and his efforts for the various members of the Ushiromiya family.

In a surprising twist, both the Golden Witch Beatrice and the Golden Sorcerer Battler ended up being challenges for the hero to overcome. On the surface it had seemed as if they would want a happy ending as much as anybody, but as Fakir wrote more and more of his contribution to the universe, it became clear that while Beatrice did love Battler, she loved the catbox she had created even more. If Beatrice had wanted a happy ending, she could easily have changed the rules of the world to reflect that. That she had not done so, that she had architected the entire situation itself with the tragedy within, spoke volumes.

Battler's characterization and motivation was a bit less clear. In some of the later manuscripts, he had created a happy world on the island of Rokkujima. However, these incarnations were few in number, and they had always been created to achieve a specific goal. In the end, Battler likewise proved to also be an antagonist. He was a surprisingly minor character in the grand scheme of the plot, though.

Finally, there was the confrontation with Featherine Augustus Aurora. The plot demanded it. The Majestic Witch of Theatre-going, Drama, and Spectating was something approaching a god within Umineko no Naku Koro ni, and she would certainly take notice of an intruder upon the world. It would have been easy to have the hero be even stronger than her, much as it would have been easy to just erase her from existence in the world he had created. Indeed, it would have been simple to remove all opposition to his happy ending. It was Fakir's prerogative as the author, which was every bit as powerful and inviolate as Detective Authority. However, such an effort would be an artificial victory at best.

In the end, Fakir decided to give his hero approximately the same level of power that Featherine had: enough such that she couldn't erase his existence, but not so much that he could erase hers. It was the only compromise which made sense.

Fakir wrote for days upon days, penning and re-penning the paragraphs of choreographed debates and conflicting ideas within his composition. Ahiru occasionally pointed out mistakes and errors in his writing, although she was more often found flying, swimming, and living out her simple life as a carefree duck. While she did help, ultimately it was his responsibility as an author for what was and was not within his narrative.

Eventually, he reached the end of his story. Interestingly enough, it ended with a question rather than a definitive statement. Regardless, it fit and matched the themes presented within the different compositions of Umineko no Naku Koro ni. Happiness was ultimately a matter of decision.

It was done. His manuscript was complete.

"Mytho had better appreciate this."

Ahiru quacked in agreement.

Fakir had just slouched back in his chair when a knock came from the front door.

At the door was a young girl with long, straight hair. She wore an ornate Gothic dress which was far more intricate, and less practical, than was commonly worn around Kinkan. The end of a cat tail could be seen peeking out from underneath the long skirt of her dress. The most conspicuous thing about her, though was that she was floating in the air slightly above Fakir.

Fakir was about to ask who she was when he recognized the girl. His recent work had already primed him for it. Her tail and her all-too-innocent expression made her identity obvious. In the past, he had accepted a cat teacher and a dancing ostrich without a comment. A witch was nothing special. He said, "I suppose you're Bernkastel."

"I see my reputation precedes me. That'll save us some time," Bernkastel said.

"Where'd you come from?" Fakir asked.

"I thought you were smarter than that. Witches can be anywhere and know anything. It's the most basic magic," Bernkastel said. Despite the lack of an invitation, she slowly floated past Fakir and into the house. Her presumptuous actions they didn't really surprise him, even as they annoyed him. He didn't have any real way to force her to leave, though, so was forced to bear with the interloper.

"So what brings you here?" Fakir asked. He already suspected the reason. The timing was too convenient to just be a coincidence. It had to be because of the manuscript he had just written. Regardless, the situation warranted a certain level of formality.

"That." Bernkastel pointed at the stack of papers still sitting on Fakir's desk. "That world cannot exist. It contradicts the Red Truth, and as you know, statements said in Red are absolutely true and inviolate. That world is an abomination, and I am here to destroy it."

"How?" Fakir challenged. "In what way does it violate the Red Truth?" His ire was raised. He had spent a great deal of effort researching and composing, and the casual dismissal by the Witch of Miracles was intolerable.

"I'll explain it in simple words that even a human like you can understand. When I first met Angie, I told her that I had searched and searched, but I couldn't find even a single world in which the Ushiromiya family returned to Angie. At best one family member could possibly return." As Bernkastel spoke, a red sword appeared in the air, metaphysically reflecting the Red Truth that Bernkastel was describing. "In this mockery you invented, everybody has survived the affairs of Rokkujima. Such a thing is not possible." In coordination with the witch's words, the red sword swung at Fakir's writing desk where the manuscript lay.

Fakir's first impulse was to grab his sword from the wall to fight. It was an impulse which remained from his days as a knight, when his destiny had been to sacrifice himself at the hands of a monstrous raven in service to his prince. He resisted it. Much like in his confrontation with Drosselmeyer, this was not a fight a knight could win with a sword. It was a fight an author would win with something much mightier.

"Your words to Angie were not spoken using the Red Truth," Fakir retorted. As he spoke, the sword of Bernkastel's continued forward. It sliced through the furniture and the manuscript, but passed through them and left them unharmed. "It's easy to get confused because of all the statements you and the other witches made throughout the series. However, at no time did you declare with the Red Truth that Angie's family could not return." The color bled out from the large sword, whereupon it faded into the air as quickly as it had appeared.

"Are you are suggesting that I lied to her? That makes no sense. Obviously I wanted Angie's help to destroy Beatrice. Why would I not bring such a world to her if one existed?" No mystical weapons appeared at Bernkastel's statement, but Fakir felt the sting of the accusation regardless. The apparent contradiction of characterization would need to be explained.

"There are many possible reasons. You're sadistic. Don't try to pretend that that isn't true," Fakir said. As he spoke, through no effort of his own, blue spears appeared and danced in the air around him, reflecting the different theories he presented to confront the world. "Maybe you told her that to enjoy the anguish it would inflict upon Angie. Or maybe you had thought granting Angie her wish would have made her unwilling to assist you. Or maybe lost worlds are like lost keys. A person can search for hours and not find them, while another person can walk in and spot them in seconds."

"I am the Witch of Miracles. If such a thing is possible, then I will succeed!" Bernkastel shouted in defiance to the blue weapons which circled around her ominously.

"Then maybe such a world is impossible for you, specifically, to find. It could have been in another universe which you don't have access to." Fakir's verbal sparing felt very similar to performing a joust. He set up his lines of arguments and aimed to score a hit against his opponent. "Who knows why you didn't find it? All that matters is that you never said with the Red Truth that her family couldn't come back."

With this final statement, the blue spears stopped swirling through the air and instead launched themselves towards Bernkastel.

"Fine! Then I'll clarify it now," Bernkastel said. She declared with Red Truth, "I MADE NO MISTAKE. NO WORLD EXISTS IN WHICH BATTLER OR ANY OTHER MEMBER OF THE USHIROMIYA FAMILY RETURNS TO ANGIE FROM ROKKUJIMA."

A large red sword appeared in the air in response to Bernkastel's declaration, and sliced through the blue spears, shattering them. It re-raised itself and again sliced downward, targeting the manuscript on the writing table.

"It's not possible for you to declare such a thing! How many different universes have we seen, each with fundamentally different characters and circumstances. Exactly how many different Angies have we met? It's easy to imagine a reality in which the entire Ushiromiya family survives the events of Rokkujima!" Fakir protested. A blue rope flew out as to lasso the manuscript and pull it to safety.

Bernkastel declared with Red Truth, "I CAN DECLARE IT BECAUSE I CAN DECLARE IT. THE RED TRUTH IS THE TRUTH. NO SUCH REALITY EXISTS." A pair of enormous red scissors cut the blue rope flying through the air, whereupon both of them faded into oblivion.

Fakir answered Bernkastel's challenge by declaring a Red Truth of his own. "SUCH A REALITY DOES EXISTS!" A shield sprang up from the manuscript in response to his words. It deflected the attacking sword and left the writing desk unharmed.

Bernkastel's eyes bulged in fury. She shouted, "You can't do that! You can't use the Red Truth! You are not a witch!"

"You doubt my abilities? I carry the blood of Drosselmeyer within me. I've defeated destiny and overcome story. The fact that I can speak with the Red Truth is itself all the proof of my abilities you need." Fakir retorted. "If you expect me to accept your Red Truth here then you must likewise acknowledge mine as well. I'm not like Battler. I won't just stand here and let you build a trap of Red around me."

"If you can truly declare the Red Truth, then your Red Truth contradicts my own Red Truth! It's a paradox!" Bernkastel shrieked in manic laughter. She shouted, "You've proved your own foolishness! You've just introduced a logic error, one which has no escape. Enjoy your eternity in torment. It's worse than anything I could have subjected you to. What better punishment for your hubris?"

Fakir remained calm in the face of the threat of eternal imprisonment Bernkastel raised. He said, "Of course it's possible for contradictory Red Truths to exist. There is no paradox. The only evidence that the Red Truth is always true is because it was stated using the Red Truth. That's the iconic example of begging the question. It's no more convincing than if a stranger came up to you and said, 'you can trust me because you can trust me.'" As Fakir spoke, both the red sword as well as the red shield shimmered in the air. They were still present, but an ineffable substance had been depleted from them.

"It's not that easy. There is proof that the Red Truth can only speak the truth!" Bernkastel shouted. "When Battler tried to say something untrue using a Red Truth, he was unable to!"

"That doesn't prove anything. It's circumstantial evidence at best. There are other reasons why Battler might not be able to say something," Fakir said. As he spoke, several blue swords appeared and surrounded the red accouterments near the manuscript he had written. "Maybe he had been infected by some kind of mind-controlling parasite. Maybe he wasn't convinced of the truth of his statement so he hesitated. Maybe he was convinced of the Red Truth so he stopped himself before he could potential make a mistake and face an unknown danger by accidentally violating it. We know the narrator of several of the stories is unreliable, and this scene could be one of those narrative exaggerations. One example by one person who was already convinced he couldn't tell a lie with the Red Truth is not much of a proof." The red sword and shield were hard to see past the flurry of blue which surrounded them.

"That's just grasping at straws. Red Truth forms the very basis of the catbox Beatrice created. If you deny it, you deny the very idea of the catbox. It cannot exist without that basic premise," Bernkastel said.

"Are you suggesting that the 'Legend of the Golden Witch' is also not part of the catbox? The very first introduction to Rokkujima? It likewise has no Red Truth within it," Fakir said.

Berkastel threw back her head in a laugh. She said derisively, "Clearly you can see a difference between neglecting the Red Truth and outright violating it. Even you can't be that dumb."

"Fine. How about I make this easier for you to understand," Fakir said. He continued by declaring in Red Truth, "RED TRUTHS CAN LIE."

Bernkastel waited with bated anticipation for Fakir to suffer the consequences of his actions. There was no way to mince words or logic away such an obvious self-contradictory statement. However, Fakir was not whisked away to an eternal hell of isolation, nor torn to pieces in a puff of logic. Bernkastel asked in exasperated disbelief, "How?"

"Obviously because there is no logic error here," Fakir dismissed Bernkastel's protests. "Would it help if I were to declare..." and then continued by declaring in Golden Truth, "MY DECLARATION THAT RED TRUTHS CAN LIE WAS SAID IN RED."

"And we all know the Golden Truth trumps the Red Truth. Sorry, my dear Bernkastel, it looks like you lose this time," Lambdadelta said. She gave a loud, throaty laugh which she hid behind her raised hand. The small blonde girl wore a pink cap and dress far simpler than the one Bernkastel wore, it merely being decorated with numerous red ribbons. She had appeared out of nowhere. Behind her, the red sword and shield were both shredded by the blue swords like so much paper, until they all vanished into the same nothingness they had appeared from.

The appearance of Lambdadelta was no surprise. If Bernkastel was somewhere, it was almost required that friend and nemesis would be nearby. The extra presence did further annoy Fakir, though, emphasizing his lack of control of his home. He wryly asked, "And where did you come from?"

"I thought you heard it from Bernkastel. Witches can be anywhere and know anything," Lambdadelta said. She stood in the air, arms akimbo, with a look of smug superiority on her face.

"So you're all here, then? Should I expect more witches to appear?" Fakir asked, exasperated.

"Fine, ruin my entrance!" the Golden Witch Beatrice complained with a pout. She faded into view, floating in the air in a position such that she, Lambdadelta, Bernkastel, and Fakir formed a rough square. She was an adult woman who wore far more revealing clothing than the other two witches. Her maroon and dark gray dress was in a Victorian style, with a low-cut decolletage and frills around the sleeves and collar.

"Don't be like that. Nobody would have been surprised by your entrance anyway," the Endless Sorcerer Battler said from directly behind her. He appeared to be a teenage boy with red hair. He wore a cream-colored suit over a dark red shirt and black tie. A large black mantle was draped around his shoulders, adding an extra size and gravitas to his presence. Unlike the witches, he stood with his feet firmly on the ground.

"Beatrice, Battler, did you hear? Fakir has found a world where you two live happily ever after. The Golden Truth makes it true," Lambdadelta said. She spoke with the excitement of child who had just discovered that it was her birthday.

Beatrice cackled in maniacal laughter. Unlike Lambdadelta, she gave no hint of trying to modestly hide her amusement. She said, "My catbox is not so easy to defeat. This usurper..." Beatrice dramatically pointed at Fakir, "...is right that his world can exist, but it doesn't mean anything. It's just as irrelevant as if he had written a a story of how Prometheus stole fire from the Gods."

"Now I'm on the same side as Beatrice? How did that happen?" Bernkastel asked in a quiet an aside to nobody in particular.

"Prometheus?" Lambdadelta asked in a louder voice.

"Grandfather was a big fan of Italian stuff," Battler said. "However, Beato is right. This story is nothing more than a useless attempt to fix everything. It doesn't mean anything."

"What does that matter? The Golden Truth trumps everything. It says there is a happy ending, so it's a happy ending. Easy peasy," Lambdadelta said. She waved her hand in front of her face as if Beatrice's and Battler's protests were flies she were shooing away.

"Useless. Useless. It's all useless!" Battler shouted. He stepped out from behind Beatrice to form a rough circle with the others in the room. "What does it matter if some random strangers who happen to have the same names as us live happily ever after? It's not us."

"This is not the world I created. This saccharine mockery is nothing like the true story of the catbox. It doesn't have any mystery. There are no closed-room murders. The Golden Land doesn't even show up in it, except in the most tangential of ways," Beatrice sneered.

Fakir protested, "The same can be said of your own story, 'Confession of the Golden Witch.'" As he spoke, a crystal shard appeared in the center of the room, hovering in the air in such a way that everybody could see it. "That story is as much a part of Umineko no Naku Koro ni as all the others, but it has no mysteries, no closed-room murders, and only has tangential allusions to the Golden Land." The crystal shimmered into a portal which showed a window into that universe. Fragments of a bullied Shannon cleaning the mansion and of a desperate Beatrice frantically writing as if her life depended on it could be seen through it.

Beatrice waved her arms around frantically in embarrassment, and lowered herself to the ground and moved to block the sight of the crystal with her body. She asked with a pout, "How does everybody keep finding that fragment? I should have never written that thing. It opens the catbox too much."

Battler supported Beatrice's shoulders from behind in a miniature hug. He said, "It's true that the 'Confession of the Golden Witch' is missing all those elements, but you must also admit that it captured the spirit correctly. There was tense drama and ambiance. Your world has none of the brooding atmosphere of the catbox."

"So you are saying that there needs to be a tragedy for the world to be valid. That's the No True Scotsman argument. If you are going to say that only tragedies are valid interpretations of the catbox and this story is not valid because it isn't a tragedy, then you are practically begging the question all over again," Fakir argued angrily. "There is no reason that tragedy is a necessary component of the catbox. After all, weren't you the person complaining how everybody made tragedy after tragedy out of the catbox, until it washed out any possibility of happiness?"

"Was that me? I can't remember who said it," Battler said in embarrassment. "But that's not at all what I meant about your story. I'm saying that your world is fundamentally out of place. It's like Beato said. Your saccharine mockery is nothing like a true story of the catbox."

"It's no worse than 'Twilight of the Golden Witch.' Halloween celebrated weeks early. A party which lasted all night long. There was no Epitaph there, nor were there any murders. How is my world any less true than the one you wrote?" Fakir asked. No metaphysical weapons appeared at his statement, but the challenge clearly was present despite that.

"Because your world has the pieces all mixed up," Beatrice said. She had regained her spirit and once again spoke with haughty arrogance. "You removed most of the important people, and introduced some completely new ones of your own. If you changed all the pieces, then you still wouldn't be able to call the game chess."

"Haven't you ever played chess with only your king when teaching a beginner chess? Would you not call that chess?" Fakir asked. "People remove pieces all the time to give a handicap to a weaker player.

"That's different," Battler said.

"It's the same thing thing!" Fakir disagreed. "Not every world need include every character. Eva-Beatrice is missing from most of the worlds, as is Erika Furudo. Kanon and Shannon are both missing from 'Requiem of the Golden Witch.' That world..." Fakir pointed at the manuscript still sitting on the table, "...has all the important characters, like Battler and the witches. As for introducing new characters, nobody complained when Erika Furudo appeared, or when Willard H. Wright made his appearance. Did Beatrice approve of those additions to the catbox?"

"That's different. I'm a witch," Bernkastel interrupted. "I derive my authority from Featherine, The Majestic Witch of Theatre-going, Drama, and Spectating. It is my prerogative to add pieces to the game board."

"And I derive my authority from Drosselmeyer. This is no different. If you reject my authority, I can reject your authority just as easily. Featherine is powerful, but the catbox stands apart from it. Imagine if Featherine were to declare none of the families had financial trouble, and that magic would be readily apparent and provable to everybody. Would you accept that, just because Featherine declared it?" Fakir asked.

"I would not, because it violates the rules of the catbox," Beatrice sneered. "But that's the point. The catbox has rules, and you violated them. That is why your world must stand apart from the others. It does exist on its own, but it's unrelated to any of the stories of Umineko no Naku Koro ni."

"And which rule specifically did I violate?" Fakir challenged Beatrice with the confidence of a man who knew he was right. "It wasn't Rule X, or Rule Y, or even Rule Z."

"You need me to tell you? Isn't it obvious?" Beatrice mocked Fakir. "Fine, I'll make it clear for you. You said with the Red Truth that Red Truths can lie. This directly contradicts the previously established rule that Red Truths must be true."

"Then what about Battler's Golden Truths!" Fakir shouted back. "They also directly contradict previously established rules. By your standards, you need also exclude 'End of the Golden Witch' and 'Twilight of the Golden Witch.'"

"I need not do anything!" Beatrice shouted, stamping her feet on the ground in a tantrum. "I am the creator of this game board. I made the catbox. Me. I can choose to accept or reject anything I want!"

Fakir rolled his eye and gave a derisive sigh. He said dismissively,"An appeal to authority? See Roland Barthes. The author is dead."

At Fakir's words, an enormous black spear suddenly appeared from the ground. Without warning, it immediately stabbed upward and skewered Beatrice through the chest, leaving her dangling in the air with all of her limbs limp.

"Beato!" Battler shouted in panic.

"How... how could you?" Lambdadelta asked Fakir in near tears.

"Stop being so dramatic," Fakir said with a frustrated sigh. "The author isn't literally dead. It's just a figure of speech." The spear vanished and left Beatrice whole again, albeit more subdued. "The point is that the text should stand alone. Beatrice's view is one perspective on the world. It might even be an especially important one, but it is far from the single definitive word on all things. The catbox has an identity independent of it. In fact, more than most worlds, the catbox can be twisted and changed by whoever wants to. It was specifically made to be that way. That is the reason you created it with so much ambiguity, and why you had fought so hard to protect it, is it not, Beatrice? So that Schrodinger's Cat could forever live within it? Think of my interpretation as just one more superposition the cat could take."

"So we win, then? This is a happy ending nobody can take away. It is the Golden Truth," Lambdadelta said in delight. She quivered in the air before raising her arm in a gleeful cheer of triumph.

"I'm afraid it's not that easy, my dear Lambdadelta. You seem to have forgotten something," Bernkastel said. She raised her hand, and several black shapes rose from the floor surrounding the room.

The black shapes resolved themselves into the form of goat demons. They snarled and ran towards the writing desk while shouting out battle-cry after battle-cry.

"Your world is full of plot holes!"

"How did Bernkastel know the plot of the story?"

"Where did Bernkastel come from?"

"Where did the manuscripts of Umineko no Naku Koro ni? They appeared out of nowhere!"

The demons acted without coordination, and charging forward in gleeful fury. The swarmed forward, clawing at each other and at the empty air in a desperate attempt to be the first one to destroy their target.

Fakir longed to grab his sword still hanging unused on the wall and commence battle against the hordes of foes. He would lose, but it would be a glorious loss. There was simply no way to win in a straight fight.

Rather than initiate the hopeless battle of martial abilities, he instead fought by using the weapons of his words.

"That's no worse than Featherine's defeat of Lambdadelta in the Capital of Books. She just declares victory, and it happens. Would it help if I were to add a lampshade by saying, 'I'll come back later and think of an answer to all that?'"

A few goats fell as if smashed by a warhammer, but more charged forward to fill the gaps left by their vanquished brethren. Spittle flew from their mouths as they shouted out their challenges.

"It's non-canon for Battle and Beatrice to return to Angie!"

Fakir shouted back, "We've seen worlds where Angie joined the others on the trip to Rokkujima. We've seen worlds where people can travel through time and space. We've seen worlds where Natsuhi has an incestuous relationship with somebody who had died years ago. How is a world where Battler and Beatrice leave the island and reunite with a young Angie any less believable?"

A goat on Fakir's flank roared out, "Your characterizations are all wrong!"

Another goat joined in, snarling out, "You reduced Lambdadelta to a mere cheerleader. She would never act like that."

Fakir pivoted to face the new attackers. "Lambdadelta was in an advantageous position in every scene she was in! What do you want her to do? Help Bernkastel?" Fakir asked. "Besides, Natsumi's character varied from being a fierce family protector to being a contrite outsider to the family. Eva went from loyal mother to murderous witch and then back again. Beatrice has been a madwoman, an empty doll, a child, and a fierce warrior. Lambdadelta's character variations here are far less divergent than any of those."

A larger goat full of fearsome rage appeared and shoved the other smaller ones out of the way as it advanced. It roared out, "Your hero is overpowered! You're pulling powers out of nowhere."

Fakir felt the accusation strike home, but he stoically hid the effect it had upon him and retorted, "You can't honestly expect me to explain the background of each character. That would take far too much time, and it would be boring to read."

The fiendish goat stumbled from the counterattack, but unlike its brethren it continued to advance ponderously upon the manuscript. It snarled out, "But he's the main character! People expect to learn about them."

"So what if he's the main character? There still isn't enough time to say everything there is about a person. Take Battler, for example. What school does he go to? How many friends does he have there? What's his favorite food? Does he do any sports?" Fakir asked, listing off mystery after mystery. "There's no way to fully explain any person, especially in a single story. Maybe I could have been more clear of the hero's abilities up front, but if you read carefully, you'll see hints of them early in the story."

The hide of the huge beast was sliced open by invisible weapons, but the goat demon was not disuaded from its assault. Ichor dripped from huge gashes in its torso, but it continued forward implacably. Its right arm gripped the manuscript and lifted it high into the air. The sheets of paper looked tiny compared to the enormous hand which held them.

The goat demon shouted, "I don't care! This pretentious garbage is terrible. It's worthless. No redeeming value. It makes me want to tear out my eyes." Its hand blazed with fire and it incinerated the manuscript it held within.

Lambdadelta's lips quivered, matching the sorrowful note in her voice. She stammered, "It's... it's gone..."

"No. That copy might have been destroyed, but not the story itself," Fakir declared. He brandished his arm forward, which revealed another copy of the manuscript he had written.

The enormous goat demon turned to Fakir in response to what he said. Spittle flew from its mouth as it shouted, "You're terrible! Learn to write!" It clenched a hand into a fist the size of his head and punched Fakir.

The attack smashed into Fakir's chest, and sent him flying across the room and into a wall. The papers he held were torn from his grip, whereupon the demon clenched them all. "Go die in a fire!" The demon's arm once again was wreathed in flame, and it vaporized the papers the demon clutched.

Fakir ached, and he was tempted to lay in a heap and not move. That would have done nothing to improve the situation, though, so he forced himself to sit and then stand up. He tried his best to hide the grimace of pain as he wiped a spot of blood away from his mouth. He said, "It doesn't matter what the hordes do. They can flame it, dismiss it, destroy copy after copy, but the story will always exist."

Another manuscript sat on the ground, untouched by the commotion thus far. The enormous goat saw it and started to tear into it in a frenzied rage. However, despite the paper scattering everywhere, its attacks seemed to have no substantial effect against it.

"Haa, my dear Bernkastel. It looks like you lose here. With this Golden Truth, and this human's support, we'll have a happy ending no matter what you do," Lambdadelta haughtily gloated. She had her arms crossed in front of her in triumphant superiority.

"What a quaint place this is. How did Drosselmeyer live here for so long?" The distinctive form of Featherine faded into view. She was a tall woman with long, purple hair. Her head was surrounded by a large semi-circlet vaguely in the shape of horns, and she wore an outfit reminiscent of that worn by a Shinto shrine maiden. Her appearance was more appropriate for the world of Kinkan before the destruction of Drosselmeyer's machine than after it. The room was rather crowded with witches and demonic goats, but all of them pushed backwards a bit to leave an aura of open space around Featherine.

"My lady!" Lambdadelta half-exclaimed and half-squeaked. She gave a stiff curtsy to The Majestic Witch of Theatre-going, Drama, and Spectating. Bernkastel did likewise, albeit in a much more composed and deferential way. Even Beatrice and Battler gave respectful acknowledgment of her presence.

"And you would be Featherine, I presume," Fakir said coldly. Externally he was the only one who remained unimpressed with Featherine's entrance, even if internally he felt intimidated by her presence. "I'm surprised to see you here. I would have expected you to pull us to the Capital of Books or something."

"That would have been far more trouble, and there's no reason to bother. Kinkan Town has always been a bit of a malleable place, as Drosselmeyer had proven so well in his life and death. This is a fine place for the final confrontation," Featherine said.

"Confrontation? What confrontation?" Fakir asked. He knew, but certain forms had to be observed.

"The fight over that," Featherine said. She pointed at the manuscript sitting on the ground. She declared with Golden Truth, "THAT WORLD IS FAKE. IT SHALL BE DESTROYED AND FORGOTTEN." Responding to her words, the paper on the ground vanished in a shower of golden sparks.

Fakir countered this by declaring with Golden Truth, "YOU CANNOT SIMPLY DESTROY THE WORLD LIKE THIS. IT EXISTS. IT WILL ALWAYS EXIST." The golden sparks struggled to re-assemble themselves. They formed a ghostly apparition, translucently opaque.

"You cannot simply override my Golden Truth with your own," Featherine said in casual amusement.

"You can't override mine, either. You can't just erase this world with your Golden Truth," Fakir said. Unlike the relaxing Featherine, sweat beaded on his forehead from the stress of his efforts. "It is like the catbox. It has an existence all its own. Even if nobody accepts it, it will remain."

The impression of paper wavered, hovering in the air between Fakir and all the witches. It was an insubstantial idea, real enough to be seen but not concrete quite the same way way that the room and the people within it were.

"I may not be able to, but what's the value of this world? In your world, the Red Truth can lie. That's one of the most basic tenets of Beatrice's game board. I reject your place as a game master. Your mockery has no place beside the other stories of Umineko no Naku Koro ni," Featherine said.

"You're still worried about the Red Truth? If the antagonists can directly challenge the protagonist, then the hero needs a way to fight back. Having an overpowered antagonist is just as bad as having an overpowered protagonist," Fakir said. He dismissively added, "If it makes you feel better, then you can take out all references to the Red Truth in this world. It still holds together."

"Then why do you have any Red Truth within it at all?"

"It was for literary effect, and it allows a segue to introduce Golden Truths. I don't know. Maybe it was a mistake to keep it, but nothing there undermines the plot, in my opinion," Fakir said.

"So then is this where we end? Your Golden Truth says that this is another chapter in the world of Umineko no Naku Koro ni with a happy ending, and my Golden Truth says it is not? Ultimately, it is all just subjective?" Featherine asked. She was a strange mixture of lassitude and curiosity.

"Who knows?" Fakir ask flatly. "If you know the answer to that I'm sure you will go down in history with a name as grand as people the likes of Viktor Shklovsky and Jacques Lacan. I'm just an beginning author. In my opinion, though, in the end there is only one person who can really judge this story."

"That would be you, wouldn't it, Lady Featherine?" Bernkastel asked eagerly. She looked up at the taller woman with sparkly-eyed anticipation. "Go ahead and put this upstart in his place."

"I'm afraid not, my miko. Even I have my limits. That role does not fall to me," Featherine said.

Bernkastel started at this announcement, as did Lambdadelta. The latter found her voice first, and asked, "It doesn't? Are you not the ultimate arbiter of everything concerning all stories?"

"I'm afraid not," Featherine said.

"Then who is the judge?" Lambdadelta asked, confused.

"I wonder," Featherine asked. She turned back to Fakir, and said, "It seems that we must leave things here. Until next time we meet, young descendant of Drosselmeyer."

Bernkastel turned to Featherine, and asked, "Excuse me, Lady Featherine. Who is this Drosselmeyer that everybody keeps talking about?" Her voice was starting to fade away, matching how she, Battler, Lambdadelta, all of the other witches, and the goat demons were starting to disappear.

"You don't know who he is? Well, we must fix that. It is an interesting story. A long, long time ago, a man died..." Featherine's voice faded into nothing, coinciding with the vanishing bodies, until everything had disappeared.

Fakir was left alone with Ahiru. The room was in a surprisingly good condition. Some furniture was knocked over, and the room was a mess. However, there was no major structural damage. It looked merely like a storm had blown through and somebody had accidentally left all the windows open.

He moved around and started collecting the scattered sheets of his manuscript. As he did so, he asked, "What do you think, Ahiru. What should we do with this? I suppose I should deliver it to Mytho. It will be a good excuse to see him and Rue again. How about going tomorrow?"

Ahiru quacked and flapped her wings a bit in agreement.

Fakir took a look at the scraps of paper in his hand. He would be lying if he said he didn't understand the Witches' position. His composition did have flaws, and it was easy to see why they would take objection to it. They might even be correct. He turned back to ask, "So what do you think, then? What's your Golden Truth? Is this a story of Umineko no Naku Koro ni, or is it an irrelevant world that somebody just made up?"

* * *

Author's Note:

It was with some trepidation that I began this project. I had written several stories featuring Ahiru in various ways in the past, but this is the first time I have included myself in one of my own creations. It was not without risk. There was a very real, personal danger to me. Even though I was the author, there was always the possibility for the narrative to take control. I know this better than most. While I no longer feel the pain from the wound, I still carry a scar on my hand from the time I had to stab myself to stop writing the death of those closest to me. With this publication, I feel I have taken a step forward in my development as a writer.

I found out later from Mytho that these different stories of the Golden Witch had been found in a variety of bottles at the beach. They must have washed ashore from the ocean, where Beatrice had consigned the various manuscripts she had written of the people of Rokkujima. However, nobody wants to read about that, or about how the manuscripts ended up in my possession. It is sufficient for the beginning to be a coincidence.

There was a lot more of the concept of narrative integrity I wanted to discuss. For example, the idea of the story having an identity all its own outside of both the author and the reader. I can think of a conspicuous example where the author tried to revise a certain smuggler's character from being somebody who would shoot a would-be bounty hunter by surprise in a desert cantina to instead be a person who would only shoot in self-defense. Even though it was the author himself proposing this change, it was universally rejected. That alone serves as conclusive evidence that worlds exist outside of both the author and the reader. However, there was no real way to bring this and other ideas up during the context of discussion with the witches without completely breaking immersion.

While this is my understanding right now, I'm not so conceited as to believe that I cannot be convinced to disavow this concept. Opinions change, literary theories change, and people can be very persuasive. However, irrespective of my opinion, irrespective of everybody else's, this world now exists. May Battler, Beatrice, Angie, and everybody else live happily ever after in at least one world.

* * *

Hidden Author's Notes:

This might be the single weirdest story I've written thus far.

That stands to reason, given the meta nature of both "Princess Tutu" as well as "Umineko no Naku Koro ni." Fourth-wall bending and meta-narration suffuse both of those worlds, and it's almost impossible to imagine a story for either which doesn't do the same.

I have been struggling with the idea of a story or crossover of "Umineko no Naku Koro ni" for quite a long time. The natural idea would be to combine it with "Higurashi no Naku Koro ni." However, while both of those stories contain very complex worlds involving reality shifting, and both of them are thought-provoking horror mysteries, if you look past the surface, the fundamental story both tell are rather disparate.

However, one day it suddenly struck me that "Umineko no Naku Koro ni" and "Princess Tutu" both have similar themes and presentation styles. "Umineko no Naku Koro ni" is an intentionally crafted world in which the creators consciously use literary tropes. Complementing this, "Princess Tutu" is a story about recognizing crafted worlds and breaking them. Both of them are heavily dependent on recognition of the nature of fiction, and indeed neither story would work without the heavy bending of the fourth-wall.

I'm somewhat surprised with how few people actually know both of these universes. The list of beta readers who know either of these universes was fairly small, and none of the people I contacted responded to my inquiries. Ultimately, I ended up having two pre-readers who I used primarily for their knowledge of English, rather than their knowledge of the canon universes. As a side note, thank you very much to Arbe471 and JadeDragonHawk for assisting me with that.

Writing this story has provided me with a great deal of insight into the world of "Umineko no Naku Koro ni." Specifically, in a story which references itself, pretty much everything naturally takes on a deeper literary meaning. Complicated concepts naturally form as a result of the self-reference, which had surprised me quite a bit. It's also odd because things become justifications unto themselves; something can be true simply by being declared as true, and something can be important just because it is said to be important. Also, I had always thought that "Umineko no Naku Koro ni" was a bit ham-handed in its presentation. However, upon actually trying to write something similar, I realized how hard (and maybe impossible) deft subtlety is in a world which consciously references itself.

One key point I had glazed over during the discussion of how new characters got added to the "Umineko no Naku Koro ni" canon was the concept of canon itself. Fundamentally, especially in fanfiction, you have the question of what constitutes canon and what is non-canon. The distinction is completely arbitrary, but that doesn't make it any less real. This is the perfect example of the meta nature inherent within this story, and the incidental depth which just appears when dealing with this subject matter. If something is canon, then it is canon and meaningful. If something is not canon, than it is not canon and matters little beyond a momentary diversion. It is effectively a self-justifying decision, and a choice everybody both can and must make for themselves.

So what is your Golden Truth?

* * *

Last Updated: August 24, 2017


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